Second Chances
by femmenerd
Summary: Future Fic. ZanLiz. Max died. Liz now lives in NYC with their son and Isabel. Perhaps she thought that they could leave the alien abyss back in New Mexico but old demons come back to haunt them just as new opportunities arise in unexpected places.
1. Chapter 1

Title: "Second Chances"Author: femmenerd  
Pairing: Liz/Zan, also features Isabel and Serena, Michael and Maria, and Ava, some Kyle  
Rating: Mature  
Disclaimer: I do not own Roswell. Not making any dollars off this.  
Summary: This story follows canon up to but not including "Chant down Babylon." Basically…Max dies in the fire and this story is set about five years later in New York City. Liz was pregnant by Max when he died and had a son who is now four years old. She lives with Isabel in NYC and is finishing her degree at Columbia and raising her son.  
Warning: Isabel's a lovely lesbian in this fic so if you can't deal with that, then don't read it.

**Part 1**

Central Park 

"Max, honey, don't run too far off. Stay where Mommy and Auntie Iz can see you. OK baby?"

Liz sighed and rolled her eyes, smiling as she sat back down on the park bench. Absentmindedly she rooted around in her purse before pulling out the notebook containing her notes from yesterday's micro-bio class. She grabbed a stray hair elastic to pull back the wisps of brown hair that framed her face so she could read.

Liz's hair was still shiny as a Breck girl's just like it was when she was a teenager. The new layered cut that Isabel had forced on her revised her look a little but there was no helping the fact that she was still a tad on the conventional side as far as that stuff goes, Liz thought to herself. We can't all be as fashionable as you Iz, she always retorted to her roommate and closest friend in New York. Isabel's new salon "Trix" had become very successful and despite all the trend-obsessed clients drooling to have their hair done by _the _Isabel, Liz (and her hair) was still a pet project of hers. Isabel had really found her passion doing hair and she was good at it too (and she didn't even use her powers…..much). It was all about reading people and figuring out how to make them look their best. It was performing a public service really if you thought about it - helping people feel good about themselves. Currently Isabel's own hair was a smattering of multiple reds, oranges and blondes: a perfectly orchestrated chaos of curls and tendrils framing her face in two inch long pieces. It definitely paired well with her new red leather pants and black off-the-shoulder top.

Although not as showy as her compatriot and despite her own self-depreciating tone, no one would look at Liz Parker and think, "what a boring-looking woman." She had a kind of non-assuming beauty, all the more pronounced because of the natural, unselfconscious way that she wore it. Even in jeans and a white T-shirt (like she was wearing today) she seemed to glow from within. In the years since her son was born, Liz's ever youthful features had acquired a new maturity, while still retaining the same luminous quality. An inner strength tempered her, one that was always accompanied by the subdued sadness hiding in the wells of her chocolate brown eyes.

Looking across the bench at her friend, Isabel could see why her brother had loved Liz so much. She wished that she could have been more understanding about that when he was alive. It was only after his tragic death that she and Liz became close. They had both been so devastated and _needed _to get out of Roswell, away from the painful reminders. Not that little Max wasn't a constant reminder to them both of his father. He was their pride and joy. All they had left of Max after the fire.

"Do you still have a lot of studying to do? If you want, Sarah and I can watch him so you can get some work done. I know this test is really important and everything." Isabel's question stirred Liz out of her studying frenzy.

"Oh Iz, isn't it date night for you guys? I couldn't do that! Haven't you got something hot and heavy planned," Liz grinned as she watched Isabel blush just the tiniest bit. If they didn't know each other so well, she wouldn't have even noticed it.

"It's OK, it's not like we're still in the complete honeymoon phase or anything. We can help you out Liz."

"I know. I know. It's just that you help me so much with him. Just 'cause I'm doomed to be celibate, doesn't mean that you guys can't enjoy yourselves…."

Isabel gave Liz a pointed look. "Liz. Do you really want to open that can of worms right now? You already know what my thoughts are. He was my brother, for heaven's sake, and even I don't think that you need to completely forsake the possibility of falling in love again or shit, even dating a bit, in order to honor his memory."

Liz sighed and looked over at her four year old son busily playing next to a nearby tree. It was fall and the leaves had started to change, falling and scattering in the grass. It seemed so amazing to Liz sometimes how this oasis could exist in the middle of the crazy, hectic city. His dark hair was curling up at the ends into those little cowlicks she loved so much. It hadn't been easy – going to college full-time, raising a kid….but she wouldn't trade him for anything. And with Isabel and Sarah around now, she felt so much less alone.

Looking up at Isabel with a silly grin that said "let's change the subject," she poked her friend in the ribs and said, "So what you're saying is that you'll do it, huh. I get to have an exciting night of uninterrupted science nerd time."

"Yeah, babe. That's what I'm saying," Isabel smiled back, flashing her perfect smile and fluttering her eyelashes teasingly…apologetically. Liz's apparent refusal to get out in the world was a bit of a sore subject and she didn't feel like arguing on such a glorious fall day as this.

Although she still hadn't lost her toughness, Isabel had softened somewhat since she met Sarah two years ago. Her divorce from Jesse had come soon after Max's death and both had hit Isabel pretty hard. She had just felt like a failure, as a wife, a sister… But after moving to New York to join Liz and baby Max Isabel had found herself free to explore things about herself that she never would have been able to back in New Mexico. It was a new start. Deep inside she had always known that she was attracted to women but her life in Roswell hadn't been exactly conducive to that. Not only was Roswell a REALLY small town but she wasn't exactly in a position to be "different" or call attention to herself on the level that coming out in high school would have entailed. Plus, the only girls she ever had any real, honest contact with were dating her brother and her almost brother for Pete's sake.

Sarah. Now Sarah was the best thing that had ever happened to Isabel. She was smart and talented (a chef at a four star restaurant!) and beautiful. God, was she beautiful, with her crazy-green eyes and black, black hair (which she wouldn't let Isabel color but that was OK). She was lean and lanky while Isabel was curvaceous but they fit together so well…

Suddenly something shocked Isabel out of her reverie. "Maxie, what are you doing over there?" Both women immediately leapt to their feet and ran over to the vicinity of the trees when they heard the little boy's cry. By the time that they reached him he was wiping the tears from his pink little cheeks. He grabbed Liz's arm and looked up at her with wonderment in his gold-flecked brown eyes, residual tears still collected in his long girlish lashes.

"I fixed him Mommy. I fixed the squirrel. He was broken and it was so sad but I fixed him."

An electric bolt of astonishment hit both Liz and Isabel simultaneously as they looked at one another knowingly. So he _did_ have his father's powers. They had almost given up on that possibility. From the day he was born it had been expected (at least by those in the know about his alien heritage) that he would inherit Max's powers. After all, it was his presence in Liz's womb that had caused her strange outbreak of hybrid powers during the winter of 2002. And people complained about morning sickness, she had remarked when she finally figured out what was happening. Figured it out too late, she thought bitterly. If only she had known she was just pregnant when she left Roswell for Vermont, she would have stayed instead. Maybe she would have been there with him, could have stopped it somehow…. But this was pointless speculation now. Liz shook her head and searched for the right words to say to her little boy. How could she let him know that he was special while also keeping him from endangering himself (and his beloved auntie and Uncle Michael) by saying too much to the wrong person? God, she wished Max were here now. He, at least, had had experience having that kind of power over life and death. But Max was gone……


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

He could see how worried she was; it was written all over her face. But there wasn't shit he could do about it right now. There definitely wasn't anything he could do to help her with her bio test – that she could handle on her brilliant fuckin' own…..but that wasn't the real issue anyhow.

Standing in the deepening shadows outside the library window he watched as she pored through the books surrounding her, practically engulfing her spot at the old, wooden table. Periodically she would raise her hands to her temples and rub furiously, shaking her head with nervous energy, getting up every once in awhile to pace a bit through the stacks before plopping herself back down in her chair.

It wasn't just the test that was getting her. That was for sure.

Zan rifled through the pockets of his faded black Carhart work pants, uncovering several empty packets of matches enscripted with names like "Samantha" and "Desiree" as well as some clumps of lint before he got to his tobacco pouch. He had to take his eyes off her in order to pull out a rolling paper and some shag but he soon latched his gold-flecked eyes back on her petite frame as he deftly rolled the cigarette between his thumb and fingers. His hands were large and rough, still stained with grease from when he was workin' on his bike that afternoon. He licked his lips before trailing his tongue along the edge of the cig to seal it. When he struck the match the quick flash of light brought his handsome features into sharp relief before his face was again subsumed into the comforting darkness of the autumn night. Zan squinted as he took the first drag, inhaling deeply.

She didn't really need his help that much anyway, he thought to himself. Especially if she would just use all that power seething within her. Zan was persistently confused by the way that Liz denied her own abilities, kept them buried deep inside. He wasn't even sure if she knew what was there.

But a promise was a promise and a dude's only as good as his word or mind connect or whatever. Zan never did lay eyes on his dupe but the day Max died had rocked his whole friggin' world forever.

He'd been nursing the emotional wounds of Lonnie and Rath's betrayal in the only way he knew how – closing off and kicking ass - walking the streets alone at night, keeping to the shadows, looking for an excuse for a good fight. It wasn't too hard to find somebody doing someone else wrong and then he could justify his need to squeeze his anger out somehow. No matter what – he wouldn't let himself stoop to the level of his betrayers. He needed it raw but at least he could find a way to help somebody out every once in awhile as well. But he always left before anyone knew what had happened. With his daily uniform of all black and his alien powers combined, it was easy to dissolve into the night.

He'd been searching for a purpose and Max's "final transmission" had given him one whether he was prepared for it or not. As long as he could remember, snippets of Max's dreams had filtered into his mind while he slept. They were just whispers really, tastes of another man's life. But the moment that Max died, Zan's brain had been flooded – and now it was as is if he was wearing the imprint of someone else's life. They weren't the same – he could feel that – but the connection was strong. Now he carried all of Max's memories within him and more…..

Somehow when Max died, his soul or whatever had let out a cosmic scream – not for his own death but for those that he was leaving behind, for Liz and the child that would never know his father. It was a call that only Zan heard – wordless but with great meaning. All he knew was that from that moment on he had felt the drive, the compulsion to watch over Liz and little Max. He'd fought it at first – who the hell were they to him anyways?

But he couldn't stop. And eventually what had begun as a labor of honor to a brother (?) he'd never met had turned into…something else.

But he never let Liz know that he was watching. Never let her see him. He wasn't totally sure why. Rationally, he said that that it was because it would have hurt and confused the fuck out of her but there was more to it than that and deep inside he knew that that was true.

"Women like that don't get down with dudes like me."

She wasn't like the other women that he knew but then he was sure that she wasn't like any other woman in the world.

The way that her whole face lit up when she smiled made him crazy. Made him feel electrified and out of control. Which was just not a fucking option. Being in control of his world, his destiny was his fuckin' bread and butter. He had vowed to himself never again to let anything get him to loosen his grip on himself – not myths or pipe dreams about alien friggin' royalty, not assholes like Rath and Lonnie, and certainly not this walking daydream of a brunette beauty across the glass from him inside the library.

But he watched over her all the same……..

For awhile he hadn't talked to anyone, just kept completely to himself except when he was prowling the streets vigilante-style or bumping up against random girlies at night.

But then Ava had found him again and so shit was somewhat different now. They lived together in an old converted warehouse. It was kinda run down and bizarre but the rent was cheap and they always managed to come up with the cash between Zan's part-time work fixin' bikes and cars at the garage down the street and Ava's more lucrative work at a local strip joint.

Stripping gave Ava a way to make maximum cash in relatively short hours so she had lots of time to play with her various boy toys and make weird art at all hours of the night. Sometimes she would cruise with Zan and fight the good fight (girl was little but tough) but he still went out by himself the majority of the time.

So now he wasn't completely alone and in spite of himself, he knew it was probably better that way. According to Ava, no matter how fuckin' tough you are you still gotta at least share some air with other peeps once in awhile.

And she understood and didn't try and make him talk too much, which was good. He could trust her and things were so much better now that they didn't even pretend to be lovers anymore. Back when they used to fuck and there was this whole previous life alien king and queen mumbo jumbo in the air, everything was a whole lot weirder. He wasn't sorry or anything. They'd had some times and they both had learned a lot about how to maneuver another person's body to make it feel alright… but it just didn't make sense to pretend that it was ever gonna be something that it wasn't.

"Fuck destiny!" Zan thought to himself as he stubbed out his smoke with the heel of his worn steel-toed boot, grabbed his helmet and got ready to take off. He gave one long last lingering look at Liz. "See ya later Princess," he mumbled to himself as he pulled the shiny, black motorcycle helmet over his dark, spiky hair, pulling the strap underneath his goatee.

Zan knew that the boy's powers had begun to awaken – he could feel it somehow. But there was nothing he could do about this one without revealing himself. He needed more time to case the situation. Shit, what would happen if she knew?

Liz yawned and stretched her arms over her head. How many hours had she been in this place anyway? Her eyelids were getting heavy in spite of her best intentions and she was beginning to think that it was time to go home. She was pretty sure that she had crammed as much into her brain as was going to fit at this juncture. Plus she needed to get home to take little Max off of Isabel's hands.

Thank god for Izzie. I never would have been able to make it through without her, Liz thought. She really was blessed with some awesome friends. Maria and Michael, even though they had stayed in Roswell, came to visit pretty often and were constantly writing and calling – or Maria was anyway, but Michael always scribbled a note at the end or waited patiently for Maria stop yammering before he got on the line to say hello. They were really busy running the bar/music lounge they'd opened up together, not to mention the amount of energy it must take out of them to love each other so hard while also bickering all the time, Liz mused wryly. But they made time. And Kyle was just a couple hours away in Boston. I'm gonna call 'Ria tomorrow, Liz thought. She's my oldest friend and she loves nothing better than to give advice. Maybe she can help me figure out what to do about Maxie.

Liz was drawn out of her thoughts by the feeling of prickles going up the nape of her neck. This happened from time to time and she couldn't explain it but she could swear that someone was watching her. God, I'm getting paranoid, she thought to herself. Too many years being all mixed up with aliens.

Zan zipped up his beaten up leather over his black hooded sweatshirt and took off running. His movements were swift and agile, like a panther. Blending in was his specialty. In no time, he got to his bike and hopped on. She was a beautiful machine and the only material object that he really gave a shit about. Black to match, 2003 Suzuki Bandit – kind of a crotch rocket but a dude's gotta get places fast, ya know? He revved up the engine and they were off, tearing through the deserted New York streets, making distance between him and the woman he couldn't help fantasizing about……no matter how hard he tried to stop.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Someone else was watching Liz as she trudged to the bus stop laden down with her tattered green backpack practically bursting at the seams with books. Someone with far less honorable intentions.

This mission was going to be even more difficult than he had anticipated. Not only did he have to deal with the kid's mother and her roommate the hairdressing Antarian princess but now the dead King's dupe was a part of the equation as well. It had always been clear that this was going to be a delicate operation but now the time table was going to have to be sped up a bit – couldn't risk the possibility that the gutter King would finally step up to the plate and join up with the Roswell woman and the Heir. Now that was a combination that could really throw a wrench in the plan.

Liz rounded the corner and went out of sight, loping tiredly into the distance as Nicholas stepped out from behind the large white van parked across the street from the library. The hard glint in his eyes and the nasty sneer that spread across his face as he watched Liz saunter away seemed incongruous and out of place on his youthful countenance. Although the fact that he remained forever trapped in the body of an adolescent had worked quite efficiently as a smokescreen for the 50-odd years he'd spend on earth, it was a state of being that definitely had its drawbacks as well. With the ladies, for instance……

It might be a difficult mission but there was no way that Nicholas was going to give anyone an excuse to call him a failure ever again. That little blonde bitch Tess wasn't going to laugh at him again. He still couldn't believe that he'd allowed the watered down version of the former King's prissy wife take him down before. But that was then and this was now. He gritted his teeth and flexed his jaw. There was work to be done.

"The little prince is sleeping now so I have you all to myself."

Isabel grinned lasciviously at Sarah with her smile big and perfect like a dentist's dream (or nightmare as the case may be). She wiggled her eyebrows in an exaggerated gesture and tossed her flame-colored locks, causing Sarah to erupt into laughter.

Isabel sauntered seductively towards the couch where Sarah was splayed out surrounded by scraps of paper and cookbooks, her long black hair held up in a loose bun with a pencil. As Isabel approached, Sarah looked up at her through brilliant green eyes and instinctively caught her breath.

Sarah still couldn't entirely believe her luck. When she had first gone to Isabel's salon on a friend's suggestion she had already heard tell of the goddess in the body of a stylist but nothing could have prepared her for the effect that Isabel had on her. Sarah had been around the block a few times with men but it had never really worked for her, ya know? She was relatively quiet and unassuming, not so much shy as introspective. She'd never really been able to open up to the men she'd been with and she had always figured out that that was the reason that she hadn't been able to really, um, experience her sexuality to the fullest, so the speak. She had heard her friends talking about climaxing and whatnot but until she met Isabel, she hadn't really known what she was missing! Was it really like this for other women? Just thinking about it made her eyes glaze over a tiny bit and she wet her lips in anticipation.

Reaching the couch, Isabel leant over to meet Sarah's waiting lips and as she did the tops of her full breasts (nearly overflowing from her snug scoop-necked top) became positioned directly in Sarah's line of view. Sarah felt a wave of heat rush straight through her from her toes to her face; she could feel her cheeks burning as she lowered her eyelids in pleasure.

Sarah's mouth tasted sweet and hot. Isabel found herself landing unceremoniously on the couch as she and Sarah became entangled in a quickly intensifying embrace. She felt the blood coursing furiously through her veins, a pulse, a rhythm throbbing in her nipples, her core.

This was the woman for her. The one who could make her delirious with desire at one moment and blow her mind the next with that quiet grace and soulful intelligence. When she was with Sarah, Isabel didn't feel different or wrong; she just felt cherished. Would it still be that way if she knew the truth?

Isabel pushed the question away as she dissolved into Sarah's fervent kisses. Menu planning completely forsaken, the pair were soon horizontal against the couch cushions, legs entwined, hair (both black and red) like a tornado, hands seeking soft and supple destinations……

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry."

Liz blushed and averted her eyes as she threw her keys down on the table and closed the door to the apartment behind her.

Isabel and Sarah both sat up quickly and tried to straighten up. Isabel laughed a little, self-consciously.

"Oops, sorry Liz. Got carried away fast." Sarah was silent, feeling mildly mortified as Isabel bantered with her friend.

"Don't worry about it ladies. I'm just happy that you're happy. How was my little man this evening? Did he cause any trouble?"

"As usual, our sweet prince was an excellent host. Showed Sarah a real good time drawing pictures together. He's passed out now though."

Isabel grinned and affectionately tucked a stray lock of hair behind Sarah's ear.

"Oy, that's where I need to be pronto if I'm gonna be in any shape to do well on my test tomorrow. I'm just gonna peek in on my boy and then hit the hay. Goodnight pretty ladies." Liz sighed with exhaustion as she walked down the hall to the little room adjoining her own.

Careful not to wake her son, Liz tiptoed into the room toward the twin bed by the window. The little boy was sleeping soundly, his breath heavy and regular. He was lying on his side clutching his pillow, arms and legs tangled up in the bedcovers. As Liz looked down on him her heart flooded with pure love. As she gently stroked his soft little cheek she marveled to herself that something so amazing could have come out of her small, ordinary, Liz Parker-shaped body. He was the reason that she kept her chin up every day, no matter how hard it got. After Max had been taken from her, initially she had collapsed in on herself, in so much grief that she could hardly think. But something had clicked when she found out that she was pregnant. He gave her a purpose bigger than herself, and she had known then as she knew now that falling apart was a luxury you could no longer afford when you were someone's mother.

Especially if you were the mother of boy who unwittingly was the heir to the throne on a planet he'd never even heard of. A sense of trepidation fell heavily on Liz as she gazed at her son's face, so like his father's with his deep brown eyes (closed now) and slightly outturned ears.

She pulled the blankets back to cover him and after giving him a kiss on the cheek she got up as quietly as she could and walked back to the doorway. Leaving the door open a crack, she paused for a moment, pondering the unknown dangers lurking outside the cocoon of her and Isabel's little nest. All she knew was that she would do anything in her power to keep her little boy safe.


End file.
